Note:The serious subject matter addressed here necessitates a lengthy piece. It’s best appreciated in one leisurely swoop or in parts as your time permits.

Last January, a girl approached me at St. Luke’s hospital and asked to have her picture taken with me. “I’m a cancer survivor and I read your blog during chemo to help me pass the time. I’m a fan!” She exclaimed. She ended up emailing me the photo and soon, a friendship was formed.

Sharon and I last January at St. Luke’s for an unexpected photo-op. I was at the hospital because I was suspected to have dengue. Beginning with a simple photo request, we are now each other’s cancer buddies, exchanging emails of support and tips on how to get through chemo and baldness.

Perhaps it was a portent of things to come but two months later on March 9, I was diagnosed with Stage 2B breast cancer. This was the week leading up to my Food & Flair event, and I had to summon all my super powers in order to keep it together and take care of my purveyors. Underneath my smile, I was experiencing discomfort from the 2-day-old wounds of a breast biopsy and struggling to come to terms that I had cancer.

The following week, I spent every day at the hospital: consulting with doctors, getting blood tests and a chest x-ray, along with a bone scan and CT scan to check if the cancer had spread to other parts of my body (fortunately, it hadn’t). I’d like to say that the week was a blur but I remember every detail distinctly – the perpetual pricks of needles, the sensation of the CT scan’s contrast dye as it flowed into my veins, the warmth of my favorite scarf around my neck as I navigated the cold hospital halls. Most of all, I remember the absolute numbness that engulfed me in my moments of stillness. I was alone during all those tests, refused any offers of company because I needed to process what was going on. When I was told that I had cancer, instead of being sad or angry or shocked at first, I immediately launched into autopilot mode. “Okay, what do we do now?” I remember asking my doctor. I’ve always been an extremely disciplined, decisive person and those traits were more important than ever now in helping me do what needed to be done, and quickly.

A life not on hold
When I was diagnosed, I lost all interest in the outside world. Here were people carrying on with their lives, lives free of needles and doctors, a life so different, and seemingly happier than my own. 2015 was supposed to be a big year for me, chief of which was celebrating the 10th anniversary of my blog, Dessert Comes First. It was tempting to say that cancer put my life on hold. But no, right now, this is my life, and I’ve succeeded in surprising myself in many ways, the first of which was my attitude.

I had overheard my Bin on the phone saying, “The hardest part is seeing her cry….” That made me sad so it was there that I made the conscious choice to be as upbeat as I could, when I could. I also chose and still choose to say my encounter with cancer because battling/fighting cancer sounds too militant. I was stunned when an OR nurse told me right before my mastectomy, “Ma’am, you’re a patient we’ll remember, you’re so positive.”

My dad took this picture as I was being transferred to the OR for my mastectomy.

Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty of bad days. I once cried so hard that a blood vessel in my eye burst and the resulting dark red patch alarmed small children and some adults, I believe. But while I acknowledge that this is a very rough time for me, I strive to be calm and hopeful when I’m around people. I’ve noticed that they take their cue from me and I want to put them at ease right away. It’s better for everyone, and being as lighthearted as I can be is part of my energy tool kit.

The doctors who are helping me heal

Fast forward 20+ years, Karen and I are still there for each other; here she is visiting me during my first chemo. She’s a great surgeon, and an even greater friend.

There were people who were brought into my life to help me heal. On March 26, I had a modified radical mastectomy (MRM) with axillary lymph node dissection, a 4.5-hour operation. The surgery was performed by Dr. Karen Nielsen, a close friend of mine from high school and whom I’d lost touch with since my wedding 17 years ago. Right before the operation, I stopped by the toilet to pee and just because I could, I walked into the OR (operating room) and then hoisted myself onto the operating table. (“Wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Lori,” a friend remarked when I told her this story later). I recall pop music playing through a speaker somewhere and though I was already feeling the effects of anesthesia, I told Karen, “If you could play me some Maroon 5 please, I’d love it.” Immediately, I heard the familiar strains of “Sugar” streaming into the room. “Ah Karen, that’s more like it,” I mumbled before drifting away.

Karen (2nd from top) and I (4th from top) in high school hamming it up with our friends.

Karen was already brilliant back in high school but now, she’s beyond exceptional. As a doctor who topped the medical boards in 2004, she’s masterful with a scalpel and is a highly respected surgeon. Karen saved my life and I continue to trust her with my life.

I’m also grateful to Dr. Joel Unson who reconnected me with Karen. An old high school friend of my Bin, he was present at my MRM and visited me during both of my surgeries. Joel is one of the country’s top plastic and reconstructive surgeons – models from all over the world fly in to have work done by him – and I know he’s more than capable of giving me the “boobs I’ve always wanted.” When I cheekily told him once, “I want my A-cup back, Joel,” he rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Don’t waste my time, Lori. It’s a B-cup or bigger!” It’s a hilarious inside joke we repeat whenever we see each other.

Overflowing love and support
Because I’m a very private person, I was very careful about who I chose to tell about my diagnosis – my family of course, and a select group of very close friends. My parents however, felt it was best to flood heaven with prayer petitions, and proceeded to tell everyone they knew about my condition and to please, please pray for me. “You must’ve told the whole country, Pa!” I lightly chided my dad one time. “Half the planet actually,” he chuckled in reply.

My dear friend, Patty, flew in from the United States to see me the day after my mastectomy. A classmate of mine from culinary school and a dear friend, people who know us say that we’re actually one and the same person, from our blunt-as-balls attitude to the boisterous laugh.

I received numerous get well soon cards, flowers, text messages and emails – declarations of continuous prayers from people I love and even from people who barely knew me. My dear friend, Patty, even flew in all the way from Los Angeles to be by my side. Read her blog post about her visit back to Manila and seeing me.

Some of the get well cards I received and my beloved Sleeping St Joseph statue. Below, some food gifts that boosted my flagging spirits.

I especially loved the gifts of food I received after coming home from the hospital: flowers, baskets of fruit, loaves of bread, chocolate cake, and pints of artisan ice cream. My heart swelled with gratitude. And when people found out that St. Joseph was my favorite saint – I’ve been praying to him since I was 12 – I received four statues of the Sleeping St Joseph.

Truth be told, though I’m now hairless and (one) breast less, I’m the same Lori I was before my diagnosis, still wildly witty, still dessert-obsessed.

On May 2, to celebrate DCF’s 10th anniversary, two of my closest friends, Kaie and Bal, took me to lunch.

While I’m deeply appreciative of the concern and support I continue to receive, some friends chose to peace out on me. “I don’t know how to act around you,” I’m told as they exit from my life. I was disappointed and hurt at first but people react to shock differently and a cancer patient isn’t someone everyone is comfortable cozying up to. Truth be told, though I’m now hairless and (one) breast less, I’m the same Lori I was before my diagnosis, still wildly witty and dessert-obsessed.

Month of healing
In the month that I had after my mastectomy and leading up to my first cycle of chemo, I concentrated on getting stronger. The axillary lymph node dissection had left my right arm numb and painful, so I diligently did and continue to do exercises to strengthen it and prevent lymphedema (swelling of the arm when [some] lymph nodes are removed as part of cancer treatment). Three weeks after surgery – again, just because I could – I’d bypass the hospital elevators and climb up to 12 flights of stairs whenever I’d shuttle from one doctor to another. I also resumed my workouts but because of my still-tender right arm, doing jumping jacks and the downward dog yoga pose was near impossible, my efforts, laughable. Sports apparel manufacturers should seriously consider making sports bras that zip in the front for women like me who can’t raise their arms fully; I have better things to do than trying to slither into a sports bra.

On my newest “accessory” and chemo

My Port-a-cath looks like something straight out of a sci-fi flick but it’s saving my life. It’s my latest accessory and an excellent conversation piece.

After consulting with Dr. Gary Lorenzo, my oncologist (a doctor specializing in cancer treatment), I decided to have another surgery exactly a month after my mastectomy, this time to install a port in my chest, Often called a Port-a-cath (portable catheter), it’s a quarter-sized disc positioned under my skin that’s attached to my jugular vein through a catheter. The port facilitates my chemo treatments and spares me the agony of regular IV insertions and collapsed veins. During chemo, a special needle “volts in” – as my Bin describes it – right into the port, and because the vein is so large and is connected directly to my heart, the chemo meds are dispersed quickly into my system.

Looking at the chemo machine – I’m still trying to decide if I look perplexed or totally terrified…

As the date of my first chemotherapy session neared, my mind took me to frightening places. I feared chemo more than my two surgeries. Overcome by anxiety and always close to tears, I flirted (dangerously!) with the idea of not doing chemo, until that idea was swiftly vetoed by the two most important men in my life – my Bin and my dad.

My chemo sessions last about three hours and, without getting too technical, consist of a series of meds that are pumped into me through a machine via my Port-a-cath. My Bin says that it all looks very impressive, I think it’s surreal. I’m eternally grateful to Dr. Lorenzo and his oncology team who are all highly proficient and make me feel well cared for.

Chemo really does a number on my tastebuds: I drink vinegar by the cupful to mask the constant metallic taste in my mouth.

The wild ride
It’s said that reality is never as dark as the places your mind visits in anticipation, and I’d like to believe that that’s true. But while my chemo sessions are largely peaceful, the after effects are anything but. I’m bloated and riddled with dizziness and because of the severe nausea, I spend a lot of time staring into the depths of my toilet bowl. It’s there where my anger and grief bubble up to the surface, unbidden, just like my tears. It’s these days after chemo that I feel my life ebbing away, dying a little so I can live a little longer. Satiated only by foods that are sour (fresh tamarind and cups of vinegar) or salty (sinigang na bangus), I slip into self-pity and wonder if I can survive this. Then I remember Dr. Ramon Diaz, the cardiac surgeon who installed my Port-a-cath. “You have to be ALL IN when it comes to your cancer treatment, Lori,” he exhorted. “There can be no wavering.”

Let’s talk about food
Everyone has their own cancer story to tell, and because of this, some people think they know all about cancer and what feeds it:

Luscious and spoonable Vacherin Mont d’Or cheese.

Dairy is death!

Mushrooms cause mayhem!

And my all-time favorite, “Sugar feeds cancer!”

The most hurtful thing ever said to me was that I got cancer because I ate too many desserts. These are all knee-jerk reactions, pronouncements by ignorant people who have never had cancer. They say these things because they think they know best, and it’s what somebody else told them.

The idea that sugar feeds cancer is widely believed by the general public but it’s a gross oversimplification. There is no ratio or direct link between sugar – or any other food – and the resulting growth of cancer cells; rather, cancer occurs due to a highly complicated storm of factors unique to every individual – genetics, environment, lifestyle, etc.

Me and my oncologist, Dr. Lorenzo, at the Cancer Center of the Makati Medical Center where I have my chemo sessions. He is the only person I’ll listen to when it comes to healing my cancer.

Please, if you’re not a medical doctor or you aren’t afflicted with cancer, please stop dispensing dietary and medical advice to those of us who are cancer patients.

After much research and consulting with Dr. Lorenzo, I decide to stick to my whole foods/plant-based/dessert diet. A mostly vegetarian eating plan, it’s really not that far from how I used to eat even before I got sick. I eat everything in moderation (this is key), but I’ve given up certain things because I feel they don’t serve my body well. Because of its extreme estrogen component, I avoid all tofu and soy products. I don’t drink alcohol anymore either, and though I eat fish, I will eat other seafood and meats like beef, pork, and chicken only if my body asks for it, which is very rare now. I believe that it’s the (phytochemical) nutrient density and diversity of my diet that offers the most dramatic protection against a cancer recurrence. For everything related to treating my cancer – including what to eat – I will only listen to Dr. Lorenzo. If he tells me to sleep standing up because it will help heal my cancer, then I will!

A life without dessert is not a life I’m interested in living. Dessert is FUN and not fatal, as the flag in photo proclaims.

So, please, if you’re not a medical doctor or you aren’t afflicted with cancer, please stop dispensing dietary and medical advice to those of us who are cancer patients. The fear brought about by such careless statements is very stressful, the negative health effects of which bring about the exact opposite of the purported benefits of eschewing dairy, mushrooms, sugar, and God-knows-what-else. I know people mean well but I don’t buy into the hype. Besides, if I listened to what everyone had to say about what to eat and what to avoid, I wouldn’t be left with anything much to eat except maybe, grass.

A life blessed

Though life has hurled one hell of a curveball at me, it’s also gifted me with immense clarity. After reading the pathology report of my tumor, one of my doctors told me that if I hadn’t moved quickly, I would’ve been dead in six months to a year. Such a declaration illuminates what’s truly important in my life: spending time with the people I love, eating well, and living my life one day at a time. Because that’s all I have.

When it came to treating my cancer, I didn’t have a choice with many things. But I chose to shave my head to save myself the heartbreak of seeing my hair fall off because of chemo. So we made a day of it. Here I am with my Bin and my best friend Bal, showing off our newly-shorn heads last May. Gal pal Kaie, took the photo. My Bin’s hair has grown back and at my request, he’s keeping it long, but Bal insists he’ll stay bald for as long as I am too.

And because I’m now bald, I’m always on the lookout for fierce and fashionable head wraps. Here are some of my favorites.

As I go about living and healing, I’m awed by how very, very blessed I am. My family’s love is boundless, and their constant support bolsters my spirit. My in-laws rally around me with prayers and give me comfort. I have the greatest friends who make me laugh and who are always game to split a sweet with me. My loyal household staff who’ve been with me for 17 years ensure I’m always comfortable at home, including my driver who also shaved his head to show his solidarity.

I’m eternally grateful to the doctors and nurses taking care of me, they are exceedingly skilled and compassionate. We have OUTSTANDING medical care in this country, let me tell you. I’ll say it again: We have OUTSTANDING medical care in this country.

Boo and I took a vegan cooking class together. She’d crossed out the tofu in her recipe notes because “tofu’s not good for you Mom, and I won’t eat it either.”

My 13-year old daughter, Boo, is my guardian angel. She’s a pillar of strength and wise beyond her years. Since my diagnosis, she’s mindful of what I eat – “is there estrogen in any of these dishes, Mom?” She’s especially sensitive to how I feel – “how are you today, Mom?”, and she tucks me in when I’m reeling from the effects of chemo.

Someone once asked me, “What are the bad days like?” The answer: I cry, primal wails that penetrate my heart, sobs that rip through my very core. The only person who’s seen me like this is my Bin, the man whom I want to live another 10 lifetimes with. No husband should have to see his wife endure cancer but he is doing it with composure and equanimity. “I just want to get you better,” he whispers in my ear as he wipes away my tears and hugs me tightly.

For all these people I am grateful.

Cancer conqueror : yup, that will soon be me.

Healing and living
My Tito Manny is an oncologist who lives in Michigan. His advice and assurance has guided and girded me since the very beginning. When I’m ensnared in the claws of utter despair he remarks, “It’s okay to struggle. Sometimes, accepting that you are having a terrible time is better than fighting it and trying to stay positive. It really is not easy.”

And just like that, I come upon the strength that my Bin assures me I’d one day find: yes, I’m having a really rough time but I’m doing the best I can.

Looking back at how I’ve lived my life, I have no regrets because I know that I’ve taken care of my body and now it’s taking care of me. When I am – dare I say it? – healed of my cancer, I will think of something else to call myself instead of “cancer survivor.” I dislike how that term implies victimization, and not once have I felt that I was a victim in any of this. Even when I had a tumor in my breast, I chose not to see it as evil, only as something that needed to be removed. Again, a deliberate effort on my part to be calm and hopeful because it enables me to better deal with my situation.

Right now, I’m really liking the sound of “cancer conqueror” and “cancer vanquisher.” So I’m raising my dessert plate as my fervent wish to hoping big and healing completely because as a friend said, “You’ve still got a lot of desserts left to eat, Lori.”

Related material:
The following are links to material that have increased my understanding of cancer. All are from credible journals and websites and are easy to read.

The best article I’ve come across that decimates persistent – and incorrect – beliefs about cancer including that pesky “sugar feeds cancer” nonsense. This is a good one from the prestigious Cancer Research UK: 10 Persistent Cancer Myths Debunked.

Comments

Lori, this is such a brave and wonderful account. I’m sorry that cancer has entered your life; it changes things so dramatically, and in ways that are highly personal and not easy for everyone to understand. (I don’t fully understand it myself, and this is from someone whose mother is going through her own cancer.)

I am so glad to hear from you again, even if it’s to news like this, because your life is interesting, funny, and above all, BRAVE!

You are loved and that’s all that matters. I don’t want to seem a know-it-all but I felt there’s something going on with your silence. I may not have cancer but it runs in the family, although I am still on the mend with anxiety and depression which I believe is a part of dealing with cancer. Acupuncture and lots of meditation(Doreen Virtue angelic meditation is my favourite) worked for me more than pills. Just stay happy. I miss your food events I look forward to it when you are ready! XOXO

i have no doubt you will get past this challenge. i know how difficult it was for you to share this with others but I know you did so consciously, like you do everything in your well thought out life. This cancer was not a part of the picture but you are managing it with the grace that only LORI can. My thoughts and love are with you always.

Hi Lori, i found out that i had stage 3c breast cancer at the age of 32 last year. This article makes me so thankful for everything i have including this sickness . Funny thing is thatcancer made me a better person
Hope you can share more recipes and tips to improve health 🙂

Lori, you are an inspiration to us all! Thanks for sharing your story. Continue vanquishing the pesky C. And we’re all here for you, if you need us (or not 🙂 ). Prayers and good vibes from us to you and your family.

Dear Lori,
So shocked to hear about this and I am so happy you have made it so far with grace and spirit. Even though I’ve been terrible at keeping in touch, I always smile when I see your updates in my feed. You’re an amazing inspiration and I wish you health and joy. Much love from San Francisco, Anita

Wow! That’s all I can say ! You’re on a dessert roller coaster at this point in your life! I congratulate and send you well wishes for your road to recovery coupled with desserts ! Sitting here makes me want to get on a plane and enjoy the desserts out there in Manila! I’ve recently been diagnosed with some weird no cure auto immune diseas and I’ve put myself on too many diets and restrictions because it starts from having a clean gut ! I cry and get mad at the world why it has happened – But I can’t turn down a good crack pie, a rich affogato, or a “bad” sansirval from the local filipino bakery !all those sugar ! My comeback ” whatever! Because I’m also on a timeline!”
you go girl and keep fighting!love your blog!

Hi Lori. Im shocked and saddened. You dont know me but I consider you like a friend thru your blog, which I’ve subscribed to and been reading since its early days. Just know that we’ll be praying for you and that your efforts in this blog are very much appreciated. Take care & get well soon. Mabuhay!

Oh Lori! I still remember when we last bumped into each other in the supermarket and you were so chipper and my kids were running wild! Sorry to hear about the tough times you are going through now but very much in admiration of your spirit. Stay strong and know that lots of people are praying for you including myself. If I can do anything to help, or anything whatever, just let me know.

just read your article while looking for brazil nuts. My wife had a mastectomy right breast due to breast cancer stage3b. She finished 6 chemo therapies and 33 radiation therapy.We will be celebrating almost a year now since her diagnosis. The Lord has been our source of strenght..

Hi Lori,
I’ve always appreciated how you keep in touch with your readers, myself included. You are in my prayers. I believe you are destined for greater things yet to come… Hang in there. You are loved!

I thank God for the gift of strength and friends and family in your life! And I know with Him behind you, healing will come quicker! I will pray for your continued positivity and more love in your home.
Just a side note: my mom said salabat helped her manage nausea. I don’t kniw how but she drank lots of it after her sessions

I’ve been an avid reader for many years and I’ve been checking everyday for a (and wondering why you haven’t had any) new post these past few months.
After a day’s work as a SAHM today I finally got the chance to check out your blog today and I was literally…shocked, saddened, made to ponder on my own life (and health), inspired, motivated, and, became more of your avid fan not only because of your blog, but now, because of who you are, as a person (in that order). I’m rooting for you, Lori! You’ll get through this!

Hello, Lori. I’m a friend of your dad. This post was sent to me by Sam Celiz. You are one brave soul! I only hope I would have an ounce of your chutzpah if I ever had to face an adversity like cancer Mano-a-Mano!

Hi Lori, I came across your blog through Facebook. I think you are one amazing woman 🙂 I was a bit teary eyed while reading because on this same day, 3 years ago, I had my total hysterectomy due to Stage 1 Endometrial cancer and the memories came back. Always think positive! Thanks for the clearing up the sugar issue, it was sure a relief for me, I love sweets too 🙂

Let me add my prayers to the many that I know are being said for you. I know though, that you will triumph over cancer with your your usual grace and positive attitude. If there is ever anything I can do for you, my number is the same. Praying for a truckload of blessings for you!

Hi Lori, same time last year I had to undergo total abdominal hysterectomy and a whole bunch of “tomys” that left me without my uterus, ovaries and omentum caused by ovarian cyst that Thank God was benign. Reading your blog made me realize that being strong and weak at times are normal. Listen to my body, eat healthy and enjoy life. Having a sweet tooth myself Desserts are a must Thank you for sharing your experience with cancer and know you are in my prayers.

Hope you remember me. I was still pregnant then so i wasn’t able to join your dessert tour in Glorietta. My husband and I met you at Myron’s.

It’s a really inspiring and encouraging blog entry. I come from a family with a history of breast cancer so i’m high risk. Being a mom, I, more than ever, should be on top of it. Checkups and all. Imcluding you in my prayers. Stay strong and conquer it!

i was diagnosed as stage 2a (and her2+), but had a nodule in my liver so my staging was a little ‘questionable’. i have made modifications to what i eat, but could never give up my sweets. anyway, if i followed every advice…the only thing left to consume is water. then again…they also have theories on that :).

Hi Lori, not sure if you remember me but we were together in high school. I just read your article and truly admire how you are handling your current situation. Am sure it’s not easy for you to just share things out in public, but by being open, you must have reached a thousand (or perhaps million more) admirers on how to think about and value life. I will pray for you my dear and may you heal in time. Take care.

Thank you for sharing your life. You are an inspiring woman. I trust, nothing that ever happens to us is a mistake. Always for a deeper purpose. I cannot wait to hear the next chapter! The story of the Cancer Conqueror!Godspeed!

Thank you for sharing a very personal accounting of your ongoing battle with cancer. I don’t know you at all , have not seen your blog even but you inspired me with this piece and made me cryon how poignant your story is. My mom was also a cancer survivor for 11 years. I pray that your journey will be longer.

We don’t know each other and I cannot say I am an avid follower of your blog (I’m diabetic, I get sad by dessert posts hehe), but I just want to give you a virtual hug. May God continue your healing as you encounter Cancer. You are blessed to have unconditional love of your family and friends. You are not a victim, you are most definitely a warrior. Have faith, I pray for your healin and health.

Thanks for such an inspiring story. I too was diagnosed with stage 2B BC in January and just went through 5th chemo cycle. I cry after each chemo & i think i’m too weak & negative for doing so. People tell me i’m strong but they don’t know what really goes on. Its great what you friend said, that its ok to struggle…and its ok to eat dessert in moderation 😉 I like the term “cancer conqueror” & id like to use that too, if its

Thanks for such an inspiring story. You look beautiful bald.I too was diagnosed with stage 2B BC in January and just went through 5th chemo cycle. I cry after each chemo & i think i’m too weak & negative for doing so. People tell me i’m strong but they don’t know what really goes on. Its great what you friend said, that its ok to struggle…and its ok to eat dessert in moderation 😉 I like the term “cancer conqueror” & id like to use that too, if its ok with you.
God Bless.

I remember back in September 2013, when it’s my turn para magpa-autograph sa ‘yo, na-starstruck ako and for a moment, I forgot kung bakit ako nakapila. Nahiya akong makipagbeso-beso sa ‘yo after you signed my copy of your book kasi ang oily ng face ko. Har Har Har. Galing kasi akong work, night shift ba. So, inabot ko na lang kanang kamay ko for a handshake. That was the last time I saw you in person. I know you’re a strong woman but I can’t help but cry while reading this. It’s been months since your last post. We miss you so much. I’ll definitely include you in my prayers and already asked my followers in social media to do the same.

Thank you for sharing your story with us Ms. Lori. You are an inspiration in many ways you could possibly imagine.
We are praying for your healing. Be brave, so many people are praying for you..
Sending you love and positivity..

Thank you for sharing your story, Lori. You are brave and I admire your honesty. I pray for your good health, your strength, and that you will get well…there are many more desserts that you deserve to try. Hugs!

Lori, I’ve been reading your blog posts about food for several years, and I’ve always raved about your impeccable writing, but no previous post of yours has ever been as beautifully written as this one. I am not only awed by your incredible strength of spirit, but I am also moved by the sense of gratitude and immense love you have expressed for the unmistakably strong support system around you.

You have always been an outstanding blogger, but now I know you as a remarkable and inspirational woman. Thank you for sharing your story. Stay strong, stay brave, stay positive. You will be in my intentions.

Hi victorious Lori! Am inspired how you hurdle fashionably with this sickness. CANCER is not a death sentence. “Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid, do not be dismayed for I am with you” (Joshua 1:9) Big words i hold on to when i was also battling with stage 2B breast Cancer in 2014. like you, i switched to auto-pilot mode when i received the biopsy result on my 44th bday…what a birthday gift indeed! it was such a datk journey, but i took it positively. shaved off my hair in glee, accessorize myself with loop earrings, diff colors of crocheted bonnets, bandanas, etc to go with my outfit during my chemo sessions. Ministred to my co cancer patients and shared a book “When Bad Things Happen” which helped me to walk in faith during my arduous journey. Sickness is indeed a battle, i didnt lose hope in God but i wrestled for my healing. Am back to work after a year of rest…if you have time, kindly watch my simple testimony in youtube: THE BARNETTE PASCUA TAYAMEN STORY. Thank you! ill include you in my prayers…VICTORIOUS LORI!

I found your blog seven or eight years ago, and you are the only food blogger I regularly read. I’m so sorry that something this serious was the reason you needed a break. Thanks for sharing your journey and your bravery.

I’ve been a longtime reader for many years. I was beginning to miss your posts, checking back every few days to see if you’ve posted. Nothing prepared me for this. I read through this post, and rather uncharacteristically of me, started tearing up. Conquer it, Lori! So many of us are right behind you!

There is nothing more beautiful than a soul at peace, and I sense that in you, my dear Lori. When you can say illness and courage, cancer and conqueror, in the same breath, you’re halfway home. I can see your full recovery shining brightly on the horizon of an extraordinary life. All mmy love, from Tita Ting.

In 2009 I went through my own health scare, a non-C brain tumor known as an acoustic neuroma. sol-tumor.blogspot.com The two most hurtful things I heard then was that it was my over-use of the cellphone, and that it was God’s way of punishing me. In the end, I decided that comments such as these are not well-meaning (which just shows you are a better person than me), although I also do not think of them as necessarily caused by nastiness or meanness. Rather, these inputs are driven by terror. People hear of illness, feel terror, and want desperately to find a reason why they will be exempt from it. Hence, their minds point them towards a reason that does not apply to them personally. At the end of the day Lorie, forgive them for they know not what they do. Heal with the good that life has to offer you…

This is a beautiful, brave piece. Cancer or not, you are an amazing writer–an amazing person, really, and you continue to inspire others in so many ways. Count me in—am hoping for the best as is everybody here. we know you’ll make it through. 🙂

Lori. I have been your fan since almost the very beginning of your blog and I was so happy when I finally met you on the Food & Flair few months ago. This news made me so sad inside but it also made me proud of you posting this here. You are a wonderful and a brave soul for doing so. I can only wish for your fast recovery.

Hi Lori, thank you for sharing..it somehow scares me yet you inspires me to continue being vigilant as I have breast lumps/cysts for 5+ years now..let us be strong and keep praying/claiming that this shall pass too. God bless us!

Thank you for sharing your experience Lori. I’ve been reading your blog since 2009, and I’ve always admired you and the way you write so much. Now I have even more reasons to admire you. Praying for your full healing and recovery.

Thank you for sharing your experience. I’ve been a silent follower of your blog. I really liked the new look but was wondering why there were no recent posts until today. Your courage will inspire others who face adversity. I will pray for your successful battle against this disease.

I’m having a hard time trying to come up with the words to express how inspiring this article was, Lori. I’m so glad you’re still the ray of sunbeam that I know you are, as is evident in your writing. Stay well.

I’ve been a longtime reader of your blog Lori, and I can honestly say this is the first time a post of yours has made me cry. Your strength is inspiring. Almost intimidating. Hehe. You are much-loved Lori. Even your readers are concerned over your well-being. I do hope you get out of this stronger and even more full of love for life. Godspeed 🙂

I have heard about what happened to you and read your post on Facebook. It was just now that I read this post.

I admire your strength Lori, you really are one of a kind. Keep that flowing! 🙂 Inspire more people. That heart of yours is as strong as the storms that comes in your world but far more sweeter than any desserts you have ever made 🙂

On behalf of your whole video crew, get bonged and get well soon! 🙂 WE MISS YOU!

A friend’s mom had stage 4. While doing chemo, she was also receiving alternative (Eastern) healing. Whether it was one or the other or both, she’s healed now. It may be an extra route to consider, if you are inclined.

You make cancer look like a breeze, if I only judge by your photos. I’m loving your shaved head. You look awesome! To know the story behind it makes you even more admirable.

I just found out today and was extremely saddened by this news. But after reading your blog post in full, I strongly believe that you will overcome this chapter in your book of life and still emerge so beautiful and fabulous just like in those portraits of yours. Life is still sweet and so precious! Sending you lots of love ad prayers. You will always be my favorite food writer. 🙂

How you never cease to amaze me, Lori, I cannot tell.
From your writing to your photography but most especially your passion for dessert!
I’ve been a fan of your work for years but now, I’m a bigger fan of your life because of how you showed your resilience to the world.
I know you will survive this ordeal because you were meant to inspire people not only to enjoy life and dessert but to also stare at death on the face and have the gall to offer him dessert!
My prayers are with you, always.

Hi Lori. Did you check what kind of diet you are suppose to eat? stay away from sweets and dairy. A lot of things that you have to know about food and cancer. Let thy food be thy medicine and thy medicine be thy food. Also, please check out Dr Farrah Agustin in Tarlac. You should try Natural Medicine. Believe me it works. I know a lot of friends and relatives suffered from cancer. Some survived and some didn’t make it. Please check Dr Farrah Agustin in Tarlac.

Rose Reyes did you even read the article? As Lori has said, “please, if you’re not a medical doctor or you aren’t afflicted with cancer, please stop dispensing dietary and medical advice to those of us who are cancer patients”

And please stop endorsing Farrah Agustin. Her irresponsible medical practice and prescriptions have caused a lot of cancer patients to needlessly die. By the time they consult with a real oncologist for real, evidence-based treatment, it’s already too late.